


Secrets

by sharkie335



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Incest, M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-20
Updated: 2010-09-20
Packaged: 2017-10-12 01:15:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/119175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkie335/pseuds/sharkie335
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets hurt. Sam has a secret</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to lexx for betaing and winterlive for dragging me into the fandom.

It had been a rough night. Another ghost, this time one that got through Dean's defenses. It left him bruised and bloody, fumbling for his lighter, as Sam shot load after load of rock salt at the damned thing. Finally, Dean managed to set the bones on fire, just as Sam ran out of ammo.

As they stumbled away from the grave site, Sam's shoulder tucked under Dean's arm, Dean shouted back at the hole, "Stupid bitch! We got you! Yeah!" Sam tried to hush him, but was smiling too wide in relief that they'd survived to make it sound like he meant it.

Getting to the car, Dean tried to insist he was going to drive. "Not even. I have no desire to survive Casper only to die when you go off the road." Sam let Dean collapse into the passenger seat and took the keys, starting the car and heading back to the hotel.

As Dean hobbled up to the door to their room, Sam stowed the weapons away and followed him up. He was a little surprised to find Dean leaning against the door, practically asleep on his feet and laid his hand on his shoulder. "C'mon, bro. Let's get you cleaned up."

Dean shrugged off his hand. "None of that touchy-feely girly crap, Sam. I'm alright, just tired."

Putting up his hands in surrender, he stepped back and let Dean open the door. They both spilled through, and Sam almost laughed at how fast Dean was to strip and head to the bathroom, calling back that he had dibs on the shower.

Sam settled down on the bed, flipping on the TV and changing stations till he could find a game. There wasn't any football, but he found a soccer game and he settled back against the pillow, letting the comforting sound of the shower wash over him.

Until he heard a thump, followed by a louder one and Dean's outcry of pain. Jerking to his feet, he made his way over to the bathroom. "Dean? Dean? You okay?"

A low groan answered, and Sam opened the door. Dean was sitting in the tub, holding his head and looking more that a bit foggy. "Dean?"

He looked over at Sam, and his face colored. "It's nothing. Just got dizzy and fell. I'll be alright." With that, Dean started trying to fight his way to his feet, only to slip again and wind up kneeling in the tub.

"You are going to fall and split your head wide open, moron," Sam said and went in, grabbing one arm and pulling Dean to his feet. He looked awful, body covered in bruises and cuts, including one over his ribs that was still bleeding sluggishly. "Do we need to take you to the ER to get that stitched up?"

"Nah, I'm good. Just need to bandage my ribs, get this to stop bleeding and it'll be fine."

"Okay." Sam couldn't help that his gaze dropped a little lower, only managing to pull it away at the very last moment before he looked at parts of Dean that he shouldn't be looking at. But he didn't leave the bathroom until Dean had finished his shower and was drying off. It just meant that he had to focus, really hard, on the stupid print that the hotel thought was appropriate bathroom decor.

As Dean went back into the hotel room to dress, Sam followed him. Breathing a sigh of relief as Dean climbed into a pair of boxers, he got out the first aid kit and pulled out the bandages. Wrapping Dean's ribs only took a few moments, but they seemed to last an eternity as touching Dean's skin made it even more difficult to not kiss him.

Finally, he made excuses for why he couldn't finish treating Dean's other injuries and escaped back to the bathroom. Stripping off his clothes, Sam climbed into the shower. As he started to soap himself up, he lost himself in the image of Dean on his knees, under the spray, only this time it wasn't because he was injured, but because he was in front of Sam. Shaking his head to clear it, he found that he was squeezing his cock, and with an exclamation of disgust at himself, he reached over and turned the water to cold, trying to get rid of the hard on that throbbed and _needed_.

When that didn't work, Sam sighed and turned the water back to hot, and took his cock back in hand, working it quick and hard, trying desperately to think of anything but Dean. The pretty waitress in the diner, some of the girls at school, anything.

But like the elephant in the room, he couldn't stop thinking about Dean, and it was only when he gave in and let his imagination run rampant with images Dean on his knees or on his back that he finally came.

As the water rinsed his come down the drain, he swore silently that Dean would never know that his brother was a sick twisted fuck.


	2. Chapter 2

Every day that passed, the trail for Dad grew colder, and Sam grew more snappish. Dean was rapidly coming to his wit's end. He knew that Sam wanted to find dad as much as he did, and he really did need his help, but if he didn't stop ripping Dean a new one every time he turned around, he was afraid he was going to do something desperate.

That is, he was afraid he'd overact, until one day Sam _stopped_ being short. Instead, he just seemed to turn inward, not saying much of anything. He flinched when Dean brushed against him, avoided much of their playful roughhousing. He just didn't seem to be _there_.

Finally, after a night of fruitlessly chasing another monster, Dean snapped. "What the hell crawled up your ass and died, Sam?"

Sam started, like he'd just come back to himself. "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean? I mean, you're not paying attention to anything around you, you're ignoring me, and you're going to get us _killed_."

For the first time in what seemed like weeks, Sam looked like himself - and he was pissed. Eyes snapping, he folded his lips for a moment like he was thinking about not answering, but when Dean went to poke him in the shoulder, he dodged it easily. "Don't."

"Don't what, Sammy? Don't touch you? Don't ask you what's wrong? Talk to me, bro."

After a hesitation so brief that if Dean hadn't been paying attention he wouldn't have noticed, Sam said, "Don't be all touchy feely. Isn't that what you're always telling me? I'm just thinking. I'm sorry if I've been distracted."

"C'mon, college boy. You can't tell me that you've been thinking about the same thing this long - you're too smart for that." This time, when Sam tried to dodge Dean's hand, he was prepared, and he managed to get a grip on his shoulder. "Are you thinking about Jess again?"

Sam's face twisted in something that resembled pain, but the muscles under Dean's hands relaxed, and there was another microscopic pause. "Yeah. I just miss her, and I'm frustrated that we haven't managed to catch up to her killer."

Dean debated arguing with him - it was obvious that his brother was lying to him. He just wasn't sure if Sam was lying to himself as well, so he chose to believe that he wasn't doing it deliberately. Giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, he backed off. "I understand that, Sammy. Just give it time and at least _try_ to pay attention to what's going on around you?"

Giving Dean a tight smile, Sam said. "Okay, okay. But it's Sam, dammit."

***

Over the next few weeks, they came no closer to finding Dad or the thing that killed Jess and Mom, but at least Sam seemed a bit more connected to what was going on around him. Dean no longer had to yell to get his attention, and he was participating in figuring out what was going on.

But.

And there was always a but, wasn't there? His behavior around Dean was still odd. He still recoiled from being touched. The casual, easy intimacy that they had always shared as long as Dean could remember was just... gone.

So he started watching Sam more closely, trying to figure out what was causing this. He noticed that when he tried to touch him, Sam not only shied off, he would frequently find an excuse shortly afterward to take a shower, or at least get some privacy. He just couldn't figure out _why_.

Then, one night, he had a few beers at dinner, and when they got back to the hotel room he tackled Sam without thinking about it. The wrestling match was short, but intense, and when Sam had managed to pin him down, he was a little surprised that he wasn't razzed about being out of shape.

Instead, Sam flushed deeply, and then climbed off of him in a rush. Without a word, he stumbled backwards and then fled to the bathroom.

Now Dean _knew_ something was wrong. - something more than being worried about Dad or grieving for Jess.

Giving Sam the space that he seemed to need, Dean collected his jacket and room key, and headed back out into the night.

***

It was very late, so late that it was actually early when he finally made his way back to the hotel room. He'd won big at poker, and that was almost enough to make him forget Sam's strange behavior.

But almost isn't completely, and when he slipped in the door, there was no mistaking the sounds coming from Sam's bed. He started to back out, only to stand frozen as Sam sighed one word. "Dean."

Then there was quiet from the far bed, and Dean swallowed hard and came in fully. He couldn't have heard correctly, because if he did, that meant that Sam had just come while saying his name.

And if that was the case, then his longest running fantasy might not be as impossible as he thought.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam was going to go insane, he knew it.

Every time he turned around, Dean was _touching_ him. They were mostly innocent - a clasp on the shoulder, a hand on his back. He couldn't shake the feeling that some of them weren't, though... like the hands on his thigh while Dean checked out a twisted knee and a soft touch to his chest that just happened to fall on his nipple.

He tried to shake it off, to pretend that he didn't notice the difference, but it was taking a slow toll on his equilibrium. It didn't help that after one of these accidental touches, Dean seemed to deliberately prevent him from withdrawing. There was always some kind of reason - they were waiting for a phone call that they'd both have to take, they had to check out of the motel room, a monster was coming down the hall - but the fact remained that he couldn't even go and jerk off in anything resembling privacy.

It had gotten to the point that when Dean pointed out that their cash reserves were a little low, he suggested that he stay in the room and do research on the latest _thing_ while Dean went and found a pool game to hustle.

As soon as he was out of the room, Sam was tore his clothes off and headed for the shower. It had been so fucking long since he'd had both time and privacy for anything more than a quick session, and he was determined to make it last while he had the chance

Ducking under the warm spray, he closed his eyes. He'd long since stopped trying to imagine anyone else when he masturbated, and so it was only a few moments before he had the mental image of Dean, spread out on the bed, naked and glistening with sweat.

One hand wrapped around his cock loosely, using light strokes. At the same time, he slid two fingers into his mouth, pretending that it was Dean's cock he was sucking. He could almost hear Dean's moans in his ears, and had to quickly tighten his hand around the base of his dick to keep from coming immediately.

When his fingers were slick with saliva, he lifted one foot and carefully placed it on the side of the tub. Reaching around behind himself, he awkwardly slid one finger inside his entrance, eyes still closed. Biting his lip, he moved it slowly, loving how it felt. One finger became two, and he gasped. He'd never done this with a guy, but oh, fuck, how he wanted to.

He wanted Dean to take him, hard and fast. He'd seen his brother naked enough times over the years to know that, even soft, Dean was long and thick, and Sam _needed_ to feel it so badly. But he couldn't say anything, couldn't do anything, because there was no way that Dean would be able to accept it.

The hand on his cock started to move faster, tighter, and he thrust his hips into his own grip. Whimpering, he tried to keep his focus, tried to make it last, but there was just no way... Finally, with a loud cry of his brother's name, he came.

Sighing, he pulled is fingers free and washed his hands. Turning off the water, he turned to get a towel, and found himself looking right into Dean's face.

"We need to talk, Sammy."


	4. Chapter 4

_"We need to talk, Sammy."_

Dean gave his brother a little mercy and some privacy to finish drying off. While he waited, he sat on the edge of the bed and thought about how he could make this work. Ultimately, though, he just had to hope for the best.

Sam came out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, and Dean had to swallow hard. A drop of water traced a path over his chest, and all he wanted to do was lick it up. But no, they needed to _talk_ first. Bleah.

Quietly, his brother mirrored his position on the other bed. "I guess you heard, huh?"

"Yeah, bro. Got a real eyeful when I came in, too. You want to tell me what the hell's going on in your head?"

"Not really, no."

Dean looked over at Sam and saw the familiar look of determination on his face. He sighed. "Well, I don't much care whether you want to talk or not. I think I have the right to know what's going on when I hear you call my name and think there's something wrong, only to find you diddling yourself."

Sam flushed all the way down to his waist, but didn't say anything. Dean waited for a minute, but when it became clear that there wasn't going to be anything forthcoming, he tried again. "Look, Sammy -"

"The name is Sam, dammit."

"Okay, fine, _Sam_. I'm not upset at you. But if you don't talk to me, then nothing changes, and you go back to playing with yourself in the shower while I go back to..."

Sam looked up, curious. "You go back to what, Dean?" There was no mistaking the look of hope on his face.

Dean swallowed, feeling the heat rise in his face. This was it, the step he couldn't take back. "I go back to believing that you would never think that way about me," he said quietly.

"You mean you're..."

Smiling tightly, Dean nodded. "For a long time now, Sam."

"Oh, thank god." Sam flopped onto his back, letting out a long breath. "I thought..."

"Talk to me, Sam."

Sam turned his head and looked right at Dean. "This is pretty twisted, even for us."

Dean laughed in spite of himself. "Oh, yeah, I know. Not exactly Brady Bunch episode material here."

Sam sat back up. Dean couldn't help but notice that the towel he was wearing gapped at the front, giving him a clear view most of the way up his thigh. Dean had to swallow hard and turn away to keep his train of thought from derailing. "So, where do we go from here?"

There was a creak of bedsprings, and then Sam was crouched on the floor in front of him. "Where do you want to go?"

Dean smiled. "Here." And he leaned forward into the space between the beds, only to be met by Sam, who kissed him back.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam pulled away. There was part of him that expected to feel... disgusted? Confused? But all he felt was a sensation of coming home. Opening eyes that he hadn't realized he had closed, he looked into Dean's, seeing an expression of awe that he suspected was mirrored on his own.

Without a word, they fell back into each other's arms, and this time the kiss grew heated, deeper, tongues tangling together, teeth clashing. Sam's hands came up, tangling in Dean's hair, holding him still. But that only lasted a moment, before Dean's hands came up, and then he took control of the kiss.

Somehow, Dean pulled him to his feet, and then forward so that he was lying full length on top of his brother. This time, when their lips separated, Dean bit at Sam's chin, at his neck. "Fuck, Sam. Taste so good."

Sam moaned, eyes falling shut again. The towel around his waist came loose under Dean's hands, and he shivered in pleasure as a soft touch made its way down over his spine. "You know, there's something really unfair here, Dean."

Dean chuckled. "Oh, really, Sam? What would that be?"

"The fact that I'm naked and you're fully dressed."

"Maybe we should do something about it, then." Their hands tangled at first, as they both tried to get to the hem of Dean's t-shirt, but then as Sam lifted it, Dean's hands dropped down to undo the fly of his jeans. Within moments they were both naked, and as skin rubbed against skin, he groaned.

Dean flipped them over, so he was lying on top, and began to thrust lightly. Sam could feel his eyes rolling back in his head at the sensation and reached down to grip his hips. "Oh, god, Dean." He chuckled softly, and leaned down to take Sam's mouth again.

Sam spread his legs, wrapping them around Dean's thighs. Taking a deep breath, he rolled them again, so that he was sitting on Dean's legs. He stretched and slowly folded his arms under his head. "Now what, Sammy?"

He devoured Dean with his eyes, looking from his eyes, to his chest, down to his hard cock. Just like he'd known it was, it was long and thick. As he watched, a drop of pre-come welled up at the tip and started to roll down the shaft. Suddenly, he had to taste him. Scooting back, he leaned down and licked it up, smiling to himself at the loud gasp that brought.

Wrapping his hand around Dean's cock loosely, he looked up the lines of his body to where Dean was looking down at him. "Can I?" Dean's mouth was open, but he didn't try to speak, just nodding instead.

As much as Sam had fantasized about this, he was still a little intimidated when faced with the reality. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to get up his courage, only to feel a soft hand in his hair. "You don't have to, Sammy. Don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

He smiled, some of his tension dissolving, and quipped, "What, so you can call me a wimp later? I don't think so!" With that, he leaned forward and ran his tongue up the shaft to the head. Opening his mouth wide, he took it into his mouth, sucking on it lightly.

Dean's hands tightened, briefly, and then let go. Sam couldn't ask if he was all right, but before he felt like he had to stop a soft moan came from the top of the bed. That encouraged him to try for a little more, and pretty soon he was sliding up and down Dean's cock, taking it deeper on every try.

He became lost in the taste, in the feel, to the point that he was surprised when Dean stopped him with a hand on his face. "Sam, I'm going to come if you don't stop that right now."

Licking his lips, Sam couldn't help the small shudder of pleasure at Dean's voice, low and throaty with lust. "This would be bad how?"

"I'd rather come fucking you, is all." This time the shudder was full bodied. "But you don't have to..."

"No, no, I want that. Do you... do you have any of the stuff we'd need?"

"Yeah, let me up?" Sam rolled off Dean and watched as he went over to his bag. He pulled out a small bottle and a condom. "You ever do this before?"

Sam shook his head. "No. You?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I have. You trust me for this?"

Propping his head up on his hand, Sam smiled. "There's no one I trust more, Dean. And if you don't quit pussy-footing around, I'm going to think that you've had second thoughts."

Tossing the supplies up on the pillow, Dean tackled Sam and started tickling him. "I'll show you second thoughts, Sammy."

"No, don't!" Sam squirmed below Dean, trying to get loose. Finally, in desperation, he gripped Dean's cock. "You want to fuck me, already?"

Dean leaned down and kissed him, then slid to one side. Opening the bottle, he slicked up his fingers and then slid them down between Sam's thighs, which spread for him without a word. Sam watched Dean's face as a finger slid inside him. "Okay?"

"Not gonna break. And it feels..." Sam moved a little, experimentally. "Good, in a weird sort of way."

Smiling, Dean started to move his finger, and then Sam suddenly was seeing stars. "What the hell?"

"Welcome to your prostate, Sammy. Feel good?"

"Uh, huh." Sam couldn't stop his hips from moving, and when Dean slid another finger in, he gasped. "Fuck!"

"Planning on it..." Dean's voice sounded strained, but his hand never sped up, still moving at a maddeningly slow pace. "Gotta get you ready, bro."

"I'm ready now, Dean. Please!" Sam knew he was begging but he didn't care. He'd wanted this for so long, and now it was within his grasp.

Dean rested his forehead against Sam's for a moment, taking a deep breath. Then he slid his fingers out of Sam, and rolled to his knees. Picking up the condom, he tore open the package and then rolled it down over his cock. "If it's too much, Sam, you tell me, or I'll kick your ass, you got me?"

Sam nodded and spread his legs even wider. "I got it. Now fuck me already."

Spreading some lube on his cock, Dean lifted one of Sam's legs and propped it over his shoulder, wrapping the other around his waist. Then there was a blunt pressure at his entrance, and as Sam gasped, Dean pressed inside, filling him up slowly.

He brought his hands up to rest on Dean's shoulders, trying to focus on his breathing. It hurt, but not unbearably, and then as Dean continued to move ever so slowly, he hit that part inside Sam that made him cry out and arch his back. "Again, Dean. Right there..."

The pleasure overwhelmed the pain, and then the burn receded to nothing. As if he could read Sam's mind, Dean began to move faster, deeper inside him. All that could be heard were the moans and groans of two men relishing every movement.

But nothing good can last, and gradually Dean started to speed up, his hand dropping to find Sam's cock, circling it and pulling it steadily in the same rhythm. "Give it up, Sammy. Give it up for me."

Sam bit his lip, trying to hold back, but it was too intense, and with a loud cry of his brother's name, he came, hard. Another stroke, and Dean followed right after him.

Dean collapsed onto him, and for a long moment, the two of them panted in unison. When Dean was breathing steadily again, he pulled back enough to pull out, and then he stripped off the condom, tossing it shakily towards the trashcan. Then he collapsed back down, burrowing into Sam's side.

"Dean..."

"Don't, Sammy. Let's just luxuriate in the afterglow."

Sam smiled tiredly. "Fine. Just one thing?"

Dean blew out a hard breath. "What?"

"Don't call me Sammy!"


End file.
